Author's Note & Edits Since Completion

Amyra feels a guiding hand constantly, pulling at her bones, whispering into her ear. In King's Landing, between Flea Bottom and The Street of Silk, she dreams of it- dripping from her palms, a balm to the rage. By daylight, she grinds herbs, sells salves, delivers babes, and aids the needy as only a healer can, but when the moon rises up from her slumber, Amyra begins her true work. They come from all over, whispering, wailing, begging. Do you have a spell to make her love me? My husband should be dead, will you help me do it? Is there anything to make them forget? Remember? Live? Die? She takes them by their hand, "Of course," she tells them. She wipes their tears and smiles. "The price is ever so small." It doesn't matter what it costs, we'll pay it. "Of course, you will." she agrees, and it's true. They always pay, one way or another.

Then, by a strange stroke of luck, Queen Alicent is in need of her expertise. My daughter, she cries, Princess Helaena, will you help her? "Of course," Amyra sings, "I am but a humble servant to the crown." She tastes it on her tongue, sweet and sticky. She sees it, pooling like blood off a wound.

She calls her Justice, but she answers to Revenge.